


Would a Flatmate Do That?

by sylveparker



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, SherlockBBC - Freeform, m/m - Freeform, sherlock and john - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:08:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylveparker/pseuds/sylveparker
Summary: Sherlock is tired of hiding his relationship with John. Will John finally tell the world about his love affair with the detective, or will this secret be the end of their relationship?
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock/John - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	Would a Flatmate Do That?

POV: John Watson

The morning sun creeps across the room, through Sherlock’s window.   
I open my eyes, sighing against his chest.   
Time for me to go back to my own room, before Mrs. Hudson wakes up.  
I move to get up, but his arms wrap around me and pull me back down to him.   
“Sherlock,” I laugh, settling back onto his chest, “you know I have to go. Mrs. Hudson always brings tea in the morning.”  
He groans.   
“Or you could stay,” He says into my hair, “And Mrs. Hudson be damned.”   
He kisses my head.  
I sigh again and roll over to get out of the bed.   
“Oh, come on John.” He says, annoyed.   
We’re going to have this argument again today I see.  
He gets out of bed too as I pull on my trousers.   
“It’s not like they’re all in the dark exactly.” He continues, “They all think it’s happening anyway, why not just let them know?”  
I tighten my belt.  
“Because Sherlock,” I answer, “I’m just… I’m not ready yet, alright?”  
I pick up my shirt, turning to look at him.  
He looks upset.  
“What?” I ask.  
He just shakes his head and walks back to the bed.  
“Sherlock, what, just tell me.” I say.  
He just pulls the blanket over his head.  
Brilliant.  
“Right then.” I say, walking out.  
I put on a fresh shirt, and head to the living room with my computer.   
I sit in my chair just as Mrs. Hudson raps on the door.  
I’ve timed it perfectly, again.   
“Morning love!” She chimes, swinging the door open.   
“Morning.” I say, opening my laptop.  
She sets the tray of tea on the kitchen table as Sherlock opens his door.  
He walks out into the living room in only his pajama pants.   
I stare into the screen of my laptop as if it’s the only thing in the flat.   
“Morning dear.” Mrs. Hudson tells him.   
He ignores her.   
Still mad.  
I don’t look up.   
“Are you two, alright?” Mrs. Hudson asks.  
“Why don’t you ask him?” Sherlock snaps.   
My cheeks redden.   
She looks at me.   
“We’re fine. Thanks for the tea.” I say, as dryly as I can.   
Luckily, it’s dry enough to make her go.   
As the door closes, I turn to face him.  
“What the hell was that?” I snap.  
“What was what?” he asks, pouring the tea into a cup. Unbothered.  
“You know what I’m talking about.” I say, shutting my laptop.  
I stand up and walk into the kitchen.   
“Well, you’re the one with the problem, so I was letting you answer. That’s all.” He answers, sipping from his cup.  
He turns around to face me.  
“I don’t have a problem, Sherlock.” I tell him.  
“You do.” He says, meeting my eyes, “You’re ashamed of me.”  
His voice is cold, disconnected.  
His face is hard.  
“Ashamed of you?” I ask. “What makes you think that?”  
He sighs.  
“You don’t want to be seen in a compromising position with me. Ever. Be it standing too close in the grocery or waking up in my bed. You don’t want anyone to see you as more than my flatmate.” He answers.  
“Sherlock—”   
“John.” He cuts me off. “If being more than my flatmate is too damaging to your image, then perhaps sleep in your own bedroom tonight.”  
He sets his cup down on the table, and walks back down the hall to his bedroom, slamming the door.   
Shit.  
I follow to his room and jiggle the knob.   
Locked. Great.  
“Sherlock?” I say, knocking on the door. “Please let me in, we can talk.”  
“Careful John,” I hear from the other side of the door, “Mrs. Hudson might hear, heaven forbid she knows you’ve seen where I sleep.”   
I groan.   
“Sherlock please. Open this door.” I press my ear against the wood.  
Nothing.   
Fine.   
I get my laptop and go to my own room, slamming the door.   
Eventually I hear his door open, and I hear Sherlock walk out into the living room.   
He tunes his violin, and a somber melody plays out.   
Drama queen.   
I put my laptop down and open my bedroom door.  
He’s standing in the living room, starring out the window as he plays.  
I walk to my chair, silently, and sit.  
He ignores me.  
His silhouette against the window is beautiful.  
The grey rain falling outside provides a stark contrast to the black trousers and shirt he’s wearing.   
They’re tight against his body.  
His skin is pale against the black clothing, his long fingers dancing along the neck of the violin.   
The song ebbs and swells, and then falls into the ending note.  
He sets his violin down and turns to face me.  
“Oh, hello John.” He says, placating me. “You know, normal flatmates don’t look at their friends like that. Just saying.”  
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers and sigh.   
“Sherlock, I’m sorry about this morning. Can we please just sit down and talk about this like adults?” I ask.  
He looks at me, his head cocked to one side.   
“Ah, I’d love to. But I’m going out.” He says, walking towards the door.  
“Out?” I ask, springing up from my chair. “What do you mean out? Out where? With whom?”   
He puts on his jacket and reaches for the doorknob.   
“Oh, you know,” he says, “just out.” He smirks at me and opens the door.   
Jesus.   
He steps out the front door as I run down the stairs behind him.   
“Sherlock!” I yell, he doesn’t turn around. “Sherlock, wait!”   
Mrs. Hudson stands in the doorway, wondering what we’re arguing about now I’m sure.   
He finally turns around.   
“What now, John?” he asks, all joking gone from his voice.  
His eyes look sad.  
“Sherlock I’m not ashamed of you.” I say, stepping in front of him.  
“John if you are, it’s fine, but I won’t play a game anymore.” He says.   
The rain drips down his face now, like tears. His black curls are slicked down against his smooth forehead, making his blue eyes more pronounced.   
“Sherlock,” I say, stepping towards him again, closing the gap, “I’m not ashamed of you.”  
I stroke his cheek with my hand.  
“John,” he whispers, “Mrs. Hudson is in the door, don’t do this if you aren’t sure.”  
His face creases with worry.  
“I’m sure.” I whisper back, kissing him there in the street.   
My fingers wrap around the back of his head while his settle on my waist.   
He breaks the kiss and looks down at me.  
“So, would just a flatmate do that?” I ask him, smirking.  
He laughs.  
“God I hope not.” He says, taking my hand and leading me back towards the flat.  
Mrs. Hudson is leaning against the doorway, smiling at us.   
“Told you she knew.” Sherlock whispers in my ear as we walk past her.  
I roll my eyes, and we walk into the flat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment! :)


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